


a letter from wendla bergmann to anyone who's listening

by loveinheaven



Category: Frühlings Erwachen | Spring Awakening - Frank Wedekind, Spring Awakening - Sheik/Sater
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Canon Disabled Character, Deaf Character, F/F, F/M, Implied Sexual Content, Inner Dialogue, Internal Conflict, Internal Monologue, Internalized Homophobia, Pining, Rape/Non-con Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-11
Updated: 2018-07-11
Packaged: 2019-06-08 16:20:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15247140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loveinheaven/pseuds/loveinheaven
Summary: Last night, I did something I never thought I'd do with Melchior Gabor.This morning, I realized that I never loved him the way I love Ilse Neumann.





	a letter from wendla bergmann to anyone who's listening

**Author's Note:**

> modern dwsa au, my loves!!

Dear Anyone,

I'm hopelessly in love with the wrong person.

I know it sounds absolutely ridiculous, but it's true. Especially after last night- god, last night- I've begun to question myself more than usual. It's strange, it's oddly queer... and I know I'm in the wrong to be the one questioning everything. But here I am, locked away in my room, typing out an open letter to anyone who will read it because I know that I need  _somewhere_ to put the feelings that have been consuming every fragment of my mind for days on end.

Last night was amazing, don't get me wrong. Melchior and I had been planning it for quite some time, but every day that he said he wanted to finally do it... I was too scared to follow through. Last night, he managed to make me less afraid, and I trusted him with all my soul, so I said yes. He kissed me and held me and was gentle with me until it was over, and every second of it was incredible. Though it must make me a sinner- wouldn't it?- to say that there was another name trapped in my mind the whole time.

I couldn't stop thinking about Ilse Neumann. I know only enough about her to say that I am absolutely infatuated with her, and I also know enough about monogamy to say that I shouldn't be. But she's beautiful.

I don't know what else to say, except for the fact that I am so completely and utterly torn that I'm not sure what to do with myself. I love Melchior, but I love Ilse just the same. I hate myself for so desperately wanting another girl to be with me, but that couldn't even begin to be the worst part.

Melchior touching me wasn't enough. It was enough for last night, but now, the mere thought of it makes me shiver with discomfort. I hate to imagine myself under Melchior once again, because I tried it and though it was wonderful, it was something I couldn't possibly do again.

I'd rather be with Ilse. And her sketchbook filled with half-completed drawings (I hope she's drawn me, that would be incredible) and her paint smocks that fit in such a way that her chest is hugged just tightly enough, and I can't stop thinking about the way she walks around with flowers in her hair and her small skirts and the shirts that put every inch of Melchior Gabor's body to shame.

It's just the truth: no boy, not even Melchior Gabor, can measure up to the beauty of a girl like Ilse Neumann.

Melchior can wear anything he'd like (or nothing at all, lord knows I wouldn't mind!) but he could never look like Ilse. Even Ilse in her ripped overalls and a stained sweatshirt that she bought for a dollar and change at some obscure thrift shop is stunning enough to make me feel shame for loving her. I'm far below average, loving someone who doesn't even have to try to be perfect.

 

I'll never understand why Melchior loves  _me_  in the first place.

He could have anyone. Any girl he wants could be his, because every one of them is swooning over him.  _The atheist, the intellectual, the rebel, the visionary. Melchi Gabor._

I used to be one of them. Now, I listen to Ilse swooning over Moritz Steifel, and I wish the name on her lips was mine. I wish she wanted me. But she doesn't, so here I am, typing like an idiot without even reading over the words I'm spelling, so desperate to empty my mind of any and all traces of Ilse. She's too perfect, and if I can't have her... I don't know what I could do.

 

Anna and Martha have found each other. 

They spend every free moment kissing, or holding hands, or every now and again, Martha lays on Anna's lap and Anna twists her hair into intricate little styles while both of them giggle and exchange sweet nothings.

Every time I see them, they're always together. Either they're sitting by each other with one resting their head on the other's shoulder, or Martha is pushing Anna's chair while occasionally leaning down to kiss her forehead feather-lightly, and every time I begin to ask them about it, both of their faces go red and they turn away to laugh about it in private.

I wish I could have something like what they have, but here I am. Alone.

Well, I'm not alone. I have Melchior. But I am alone in the sense that the person I want doesn't seem to want me at all.

 

And of course, Ernst and Hanschen are in a perfect relationship, as it always seems. They are the poster couple for gay relationships. Both are entirely in love with the other, and nothing could change that, no matter how hard it tried.

I walked in on something I shouldn't have three days ago, though. I won't go into details, but Ernst was on his knees, and Hanschen was...

It made me wonder what I did to deserve a relationship that seemed to satisfy Melchior so much, yet left me unhappy and desperate for change. I want to be with Ilse! Is that too much to ask? I so desperately want to be with Ilse so I can experience the things that Hanschen and Ernst feel, and the things that Martha feels when she is with Anna, and the things that everyone else seems to have such a firm grasp on.

Everyone else is holding tightly to the trunk of the tree, but with no room left, I was pushed to the thinnest branch.

There's a storm coming.

 

I cried myself to sleep last night after I went home, every inch of my body serving as a reminder of what I did in the dark with a boy I thought I loved. I shoved my underwear into a trash bag as far down as I could, and I tied the top closed before I brought the whole bag out to the dumpster.

I couldn't even wear such a simple thing, only because it made me think about what I did that I know I shouldn't have.

But it's not rape because I said I wanted to. It's not rape because I  _begged_ him to. It's not rape because every detail of my consent was so abundantly clear that there was no way for a miscommunication to have occured.

That's the thing that hurts me the most. I cannot point fingers because I told him that I wanted it, and I wanted him to keep going, and when he asked me if I loved him halfway though the act and my mind was too clouded to know what I should have said, I let go of the spot on his shoulders where I was holding him and replied  _more than anything_.

That was a lie. I love Ilse Neumann more than anything. I loved Melchior Gabor more than anything for those ten minutes, and now, he is my deepest regret.

 

I don't know why it took me so long to realize how much deeper my feelings for Ilse went. All my life, I thought we were only friends, and then only yesterday, when it was dark and all I could feel were hands on my body, touching me gently and almost rocking me- I felt young again, due to something as small and silly as that almost-motherly gesture- Ilse was the only one I could think of. My eyes were closed, and I was breathing slowly, letting myself lay there and dream as I usually did.

Only this time, the dream was not something so innocent as playing pirates when I was younger, with Melchior and Moritz and Ilse at my side. My innocence was erased for those ten minutes, and all I could wonder about was what that level of intimacy would feel like with Ilse, or with another girl at all. It's such a curious thought. I mean, I'm not as naive as I seem. I know how the mechanics of it would work, but I wonder if the sensations would be any different. Or the mentality.

I'm not sure anymore. I'm so desperate I feel like I'm losing my mind. One kiss is all I want, really. One kiss, and maybe more if she wanted to go farther. I surely wouldn't mind. 

I can't help but think about it. Maybe I felt this way when I was seven, eight, nine years old... but I thought it was wrong so I choked the feelings down until I nearly forgot they existed. Maybe these feelings aren't new, maybe they've only resurfaced. That would be better. Then it isn't my fault for wishing I could experiment with Ilse... it's society's fault for not letting me.

God, now I'm starting to sound like Melchior, with all the ramblings about society's oppression toward people. I'm not like him. Though, I'm not like Ilse either, but Ilse isn't as harsh as Melchi. Melchior would fight for what he wants. Ilse seems to be more passive, but I'm sure she has a secret or an unfamiliar desperation, just like me.

I hope her unfamiliar desperation is me. 

 

 

The love in my heart is endless; I'm just not sure of who to give it to.

\- Wendla Bergmann.


End file.
